


Six Strains of Heartbreak

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fic Spans Years, Gen, M/M, Mirkwood, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Kíli broke someone's heart and one time they broke his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elegy

Dís endured. She had always endured. As the princess of the Lonely Mountain, her strength was that of rock and steel and though she might bend beneath the pressure, she swore that she would never break.

When the dragon had come and scattered her people to the winds, Dís had not cried, just shouldered her burdens and walked on, her unyielding spirit giving strength to those who watched. In exile, she had done her duty and married a fine, strong dwarf who would carry on her father's line. Dís bore two sons to him before he died and all their clan celebrated these children fiercely for they had learned to take what joy they could.

It was a mine collapse that stole her husband's life and turned his wife into a widow, long before her time. But at his funeral, Fíli at her side and Kíli just a babe in arms, Dís stood tall before his tomb and she had no tears to shed, though she missed him truly.

Instead, Dís accepted this tragedy with the same stoicism as she had accepted all the rest, because she saw no point in hopeless wishes and knew that life must carry on. It was difficult to raise two small children on her own with the impoverished state in which her people now existed, but she managed well enough and her brother helped out when he could.

Thorin loved his nephews dearly and when he was home, he taught them all he knew as though to make up for what he could not give them. Fíli and Kíli learned their letters, the forge, and how to fight under their uncle's watchful eye and they grew up strong despite their lack.

Then one spring night, Dís was repairing Fíli's cloak and thinking that her sons would soon be old enough for all of them to head out on the road when Kíli toddled over to her. She smiled down at her youngest as he tugged on her dress to get her attention, but the smile dropped from her face at the words he spoke.

“Will dad be back soon, I want to show him my pony?” Her son asked innocently and the question struck Dís speechless because Kíli's father had been dead for more than fifteen years.

After a long beat of silence he asked again, face crinkling in confusion, “Papa Thorin, mum, when is he coming home?” With these words Kíli broke his mother's world, for Dís could hear that there was no doubt in her son's voice. He truly thought that Thorin was his father, and he truly thought of this ragged shack in Ered Luin as his home.

She managed to mutter that she didn't know and send Kíli back to bed, before shutting the door and slumping back against it. Dís swore to herself that she would teach her son the truth, but not now. Now her composure was hanging by a thread and her heart cracked in her chest at the realization of just how far her once mighty house had fallen. The dragon had not only taken their homeland, Smaug had stolen their pride and the history that made them Durin's Folk. If even their prince thought them naught but peasants, if even her son knew nothing of their glory nor the majesty of his own line, then their clan had no future and Erebor could never truly be reclaimed.

So at last she wept, grieving for the forgotten legacy of her people and for her sons whom she had failed so dearly and who must survive in this dark and shattered world.

 


	2. Lament

I was young then, young and foolish. The world of love and courting still seemed a grand adventure and he was the loveliest boy that I had ever seen.  
  
It was summer when they arrived in our tiny little town, one of the hottest summers in all my fifteen years. I was standing at the well when their ponies came into view and I watched with fascination for I had never seen a dwarf before.  
  
There were five of them, worn and weary from travel, but underneath the dust and grime the dwarves looked nothing like I had always imagined. Short yes, and bearded, but father's tales had them hewn from rock and stone, not living flesh and certainly not so handsome. When one of the younger dwarves, dark-haired and graceful, shot me a grin as they rode by, my heart fluttered and I knew that I was lost.  
  
When my father heard of their arrival, he forbid me to see them so of course I went by their forge at every opportunity. The older dwarves worked within but the younger lads stood out front to draw in customers and it was easy for me to sneak glances at my crush as I walked by.  
  
This went on for several days until one morning the blond one called me over with a smile and introduced himself.  
  
“I am Fíli, at your service and this is my brother Kíli. We've noticed you around the village, did you need something repaired?”  
  
I stammered my denial, embarrassed to be caught out in my staring, but the two of them soon had me more at ease. When I left that day it was with a bursting happiness within my heart because I finally had a name to call my dwarf and knew that he had seen me.  
  
The weeks that followed were some of the sweetest of my life as I bloomed with the innocent joy of my first love. As I became more comfortable around the brothers, I gained the courage to speak with Kíli on my own and I spent hours listening to his tales of the distant lands they'd traveled. To me, who had never been ten miles from my village, the dwarf seemed a grand adventurer and I dreamed that he would take me with him when he left.  
  
A silly dream perhaps, but Kíli seemed to return my interest, always shooting me a blinding smile and having a kind word or new story to tell. He would even use the scraps from his uncle's work to make me little gifts, here a pair of earrings, there a woven cloak pin, and in turn I'd bring the brothers lunch as often as I could.  
  
If it was never more than that, I thought it was because we were never alone together, always meeting out in public where everyone could see. But then one evening as I was returning late from my grandparents' house, I walked by the forge and saw Kíli closing up the shop. When the dwarf saw me his face lit up and he said that he had something to give me, before running back inside.  
  
“Close your eyes and put out your hands,” the dwarf told me cheerfully once he returned and when I did as he asked, Kíli placed something in my palms. I opened my eyes again to see an intricate metal flower, a rose caught just as it bloomed and shaped into a clasp.  
  
“It's beautiful,” I whispered in awe and he grinned at me proudly, obviously pleased by my delight. It was the loveliest thing that anyone had ever given me and caught up in the moment I leaned down and kissed him on the lips, my heart filled to bursting.  
  
However, when I drew back Kíli's face was shocked and my hopes died as he stammered. “I-I'm sorry...I didn't realize...You're like a sister.”  
  
I flushed in shame and embarrassment over so misreading the situation, and anger too at Kíli for not knowing that he held my fragile heart. So I threw his gift at him and ran home, berating myself for my stupidity as I collapsed down on my bed.  
  
From that day forward I refused to walk by the forge again because I could not bear to face him and see the pity in his eyes. Though I also could not bring myself to throw away Kíli's other gifts, I hid them away and spent my nights bitterly remembering all the times we'd had.  
  
Some weeks later, the dwarves rode away and I never saw Kíli again, although it has been many years. However, on the morning that they left, I opened our door to find a small box upon the step and when I lifted the lid there was the hair clasp, my dwarf's final gift to me. At the sight I had to smile through my tears and that's when I knew my sorrow would not last.  
  
I still have that clasp and wearing it is always bittersweet. While I am happily married, no one ever forgets their first love, and Kíli will always live on in the crack across my heart.

 

 


	3. Canon

Some days Thorin could not bear to look his younger nephew in the eye.  
  
It was not that he hated him because in truth the dwarf loved Kíli deeply and his sister-sons were one of the few things that brought light to his dark heart. There was little enough joy to be had after Durin's Folk fled the Lonely Mountain and after the Battle of Azanulbizar, and the dwarf treasured his family all the more for what he'd lost. But sometimes the light would catch Kíli's smile just right and Thorin would have to turn away, heart aching and mind filled with ghosts of better days.  
  
It was always Frerin whom he saw then, his younger brother who had perished at Azanulbizar, struck down cruelly by an orcish blade. His happy, laughing brother who should have been there to meet the nephew that shared his smile and his blood.  
  
As Kíli grew so too did the resemblance and Thorin could never decide if Mahal was granting him a second chance or punishing him for his sins. Because in his heart, the Lord of Durin's Folk knew that he should have done more to save his people, and he should never have let his brother fall. This guilt was a wound that would not heal, a festering seam of grief that Thorin could not ease.  
  
So Kíli became used to his uncle's odd temperament, how he would suddenly stop in the middle of their lessons and stare at him as though he bore a different face. He had asked Dís once, what sorrow her brother carried on his heart, and she told Thorin that she had not known what she should say. They had never spoken of Frerin, would not speak of him, but her son could be strangely perceptive and Dís did not think that he entirely believed the excuses that she gave.  
  
Yet Kíli had never asked his uncle and Thorin just ignored the situation because he did not need to be happy to be king. Until the afternoon when they were searching through old storage in preparation for returning to the road and his nephew gave a delighted cry.  
  
“Oh, what's this?” Thorin turned to see Kíli holding a bow, Frerin's bow, and with the light behind him the lad could have been his brother come alive again. The dwarf felt the grief within him surge forward, shattering the walls of duty that he'd used to hold it back, and he dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands.  
  
Kíli ran to his uncle's side and clasped his shoulders helplessly while he asked him what was wrong. However, as he tried to fight back his tears all Thorin could gasp out was, “My brother, that was my brother Frerin's bow.”  
  
“Brother?” His nephew looked down in surprise at the weapon in his hand and quickly offered to put it back, but this only made the dwarf shake harder.  
  
“No!” He protested, the thought of Frerin's memory locked away and once again forgotten somehow worse than the agony within his heart. “No.” Thorin said again, more calmly as he managed to pull himself together and looked up into Kíli's worried eyes.  
  
“Keep it. Keep it and learn to shoot it well in honor of his memory. Frerin would have been proud for you to have it and a weapon has no glory without use.”  
  
Kíli promised that he would do as his uncle asked and over time his skill at archery surpassed even his teachers' while the sight of him lost its former pain. Thorin still felt his heart bleed sometimes when his nephew grinned, Frerin's bow slung across his back, but it was a clean wound now and he had hope that one day it would heal.

 

 


	4. Fugue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes heartbreak has nothing to do with love at all.

 He was handsome for a dwarf and younger than the rest, that was the only reason that she chose him.  
  
For there was no room in Tauriel's life for such things as love or compassion and the sight of the captives stirred no pity in her heart. There was only her unflinching desire to please her King and the knowledge that whatever Thranduil wanted, she would find. What he wanted now was information on the purpose of his prisoners and so Tauriel thought upon the dwarves and chose the one most likely to crack beneath her charms.  
  
This one was the youngest, the most hot-headed, and an archer, which would help her pierce his defenses when she played her part. So the elf captain prepared for a different kind of battle and then walked down to the dungeons to begin the dwarf's seduction.  
  
He would not speak to her at first, only sat against the far wall of his cell and watched with suspicious eyes as Tauriel offered him her friendship. They spent several days like this, in stony silence and one-sided conversation and she mused in private about the stubbornness of dwarves.  
  
Yet his gaze lingered every time and she knew that this was the first step toward her victory, for no one could resist an elf for long. If the dwarf looked more at her weapons than her assets, then Tauriel simply had to admire his perception because few had the skill to see her hidden blades.  
  
Then one day the elf had her breakthrough as boredom or her charms began to wear him down. The dwarf was much happier that day and he greeted Tauriel cheerfully, surprising her with the pleasant tenor of his voice. They actually talked for several hours, though about nothing of importance, just archery and architecture long into the night. He still would not give the elf his name, but she knew that this was a beginning and she would win his trust in time.  
  
Tauriel started small: a little extra food here, minor news of the dwarf's companions there and always that underlying hint that she could grant him more physical comforts as well. It would not be too much of a hardship for he was attractive enough and the elf doubted that one of his youth would last for long.  
  
However, she was eternally frustrated for the dwarf never asked and without the weakness of passion the prisoner's lips remained sealed. Each time that Tauriel had to stand before Thranduil and tell him of her continued failure, her chest squeezed tighter because his disappointment was the one thing she could not bear.  
  
At the same time, the elf discovered that she quite enjoyed their conversations because the dwarf was far more knowledgeable than she expected. It became a contest of sorts, of not only information but also witty repartee. Tauriel had always been a master wordsmith among her people but to her surprise the prisoner held his own and it was a joy to finally find one who matched her wit.  
  
In truth she liked him, she liked him quite a lot but the elf was still there to do her duty no matter what the cost. So Tauriel increased the flirting, came more often and showed more skin, and finally the dwarf took her up on her offer.  
  
He made it obvious as he reached slowly through the bars, clearly giving her time to change her mind, but when Tauriel didn't, the dwarf pulled her down to meet his lips.  
  
 _Well he can kiss,_ the elf thought vaguely as his tongue teased along her skin before darting between her parted lips. He sealed their mouths together, slick and hot and filthy, and his fingers tangled gently in her hair. As pleasure coiled inside her like few had managed to ignite, all Tauriel could think was, _By the Valar._  
  
They finally separated with a soft moan and the elf stared at the prisoner dazedly as he winked. “A promise for later,” he said with a wicked smile before backing away and Tauriel pulled herself together and left him there. She was sure that she was on the brink of victory for with desire like that, the dwarf would spill his secrets soon enough.  
  
Tauriel didn't return that night for absence makes the heart grow fonder and she wanted the prisoner desperate in her arms. Besides Thranduil was throwing another party and as his captain she was always required to attend.  
  
But after a wild night that she did not entirely remember, the elf was summoned early from her bed and when she met the Elf King in his throne room there was a terrible anger on his face. He demanded to know what she had told the prisoner, to which Tauriel replied that they had discussed little of interest other than elvish architecture and the art of arrow fletching.  
  
At this Thranduil's eyes narrowed and he asked icily, “Would this discussion of architecture have included the fact that there is a stream running through my cellars, a stream that leads beneath my walls?”  
  
“I don't believe so my lord,” Tauriel answered in confusion, not understanding what this interrogation was about and wanting to kill the one who had so distressed her king.  
  
“Really? Well perhaps you might recognize this?” One of the guards brought forward a wooden tray and the elf's blood froze as she recognized the item that it held. It was her hairpin, the one she had been wearing the night the dwarf had kissed her and Tauriel burned with rage as she realized what this meant.  
  
 _He played me! The dwarf fucking played me!_ But all her anger was snuffed out when Thranduil looked down on her and she saw the disappointment in his eyes. There was only pain then, an aching pain within her heart for Tauriel had only ever wanted to make him proud  
  
"I thought you might. It was left in the lock of one cell, one of many cells from which my prisoners so mysteriously vanished last night. I thought better of you than this, Tauriel, but if you cannot even interrogate one captive dwarf without giving him the key to reach his freedom, then I do not need you as my captain anymore.”  
  
She wanted to protest but she knew that she had failed him truly, and that knowledge clawed wounds into her heart. Tauriel would accept the punishment that she deserved, but the elf would not forget this insult, and she would never forgive the dwarf who had forced her King to cast her so callously aside.

 


	5. Dirge

I had always known that Kíli would be mine, ever since I first saw him as a babe in Dís' arms. He had smiled at me and giggled and I knew then that he would be my one and only, the one I would love as long as I might live.  
  
My love grew from a bright and laughing child to a handsome young dwarf, smart and skilled with sword and hammer. When he mastered fine metalwork, I swelled with pride and when he took up the art of archery, he became a vision of death which took my breath away. He was everything I had ever wanted in a mate and all I had to do was make Kíli understand that he was mine.  
  
At first I was content to simply wait until he looked my way for he was young and not yet interested in matters of the heart. However, as he matured, I saw other heads begin to turn, human mostly for my love still lacked the beard and stature to draw most dwarven eyes, and I thought it prudent to begin to stake my claim.  
  
Given our positions within the clan, I could not court him publicly but there were subtler ways for me to reach my goal. So I glared away all others as was my duty and my right, and I began to make my own advances.  
  
Smiles became a litter warmer and a little dirtier, touches lingered and glances stroked his skin. I spent as much time with my love as I could and showed off my many talents but the young dwarf did not seem to notice me at all. To be honest he did not seem to notice anyone, instead wrapped up in his weapons and his craft, and although I was frustrated by Kíli's obliviousness I still had hope that someday this would change. Maybe once he reached his majority his mind would turn to romance and he would finally notice the one who had loved him all along.  
  
Years passed as I pined away in secret and in silence, always invisible to his unseeing eyes. When I saw him, Kíli treated me as a friend or mentor only and in my despair I began to think that I might need more drastic action to claim what should be mine.  Thus when Thorin called for companions to help him reclaim Erebor, I jumped at the chance to prove my worth because I knew my love would not be left behind. So I came for gold and glory, but mostly for desire and I was sure that this adventure would let me open Kíli's eyes.  
  
Indeed, as our quest began, I thought that my plan was working. My love had been overjoyed to see me and his wide-eyed excitement filled my heart with warmth. So I was confused when he began to pull away from me again. I was confused and pained for how could he still not realize how much I truly loved him, how the sight of his bare skin lit a fire in my loins?  
  
Yet Kíli didn't even notice my anger when he befriended the hobbit and began riding next to him instead of me. He didn't notice how it hurt me to see him smile at someone else so brightly, and when the two became something more, I was the one who did not understand.  
  
 _How can my Kíli give his love to this soft and helpless creature? How can he choose that over the brave and handsome warrior who has known him all his life?_  
  
So I tried twice as hard to prove my valor so that when Kíli's infatuation finally waned, he would realize that I was the one that he truly wanted all along. He would look at me with love in his eyes and I could kiss him just like I always dreamed. Bury my hands in that thick dark hair and pull him firm against me. Grind against that taut young body until he could think of nothing but my name and then claim him hard and fast. It would be glorious and the thought kept me warm through many a cold night out upon the trail.  
  
However then Bilbo proved to have wit and courage and he saved Thorin when I could not. In the Mirkwood, the hobbit freed us from the spiders and he was a ray of hope in Thranduil's halls. Without him there to pass messages and bring news of Kíli and the others I might have perished under the weight of my depression.  
  
Yet this only increased my hate and when our company was reunited once again, my heart burned with jealousy at the way my love glowed beneath the halfling's gaze.  
  
 _How can Bilbo draw Kíli's attention so easily? How dare he steal what should be mine?_  
  
I refused to believe that I had lost this battle, and indeed I hadn't, for I had already lost the war.  
  
I realized this in Erebor after the dragon was defeated, when I stumbled on the two of them locked in an embrace. They were kissing tenderly and something about the sight pierced me to the bone because they looked complete together, the hobbit and my dwarf. They were complete together and I finally understood that Kíli did not need me to be happy, not the way I needed him and that was **never** going to change.  
  
I ran then as my heart shattered and all my hopes crashed down. I ran until I could run no longer and then I collapsed to the ground, beating my fists bloody against the stone as I screamed out my anguish.  
  
Eventually I picked myself up and went back to join the others, but I was only a hollow shell going through the motions of my life. There was nothing left inside my soul to bring joy into my world and so when war came, it was the answer to my prayers. While I would not taint my family with the dishonor of suicide, perhaps this battle could finally end my hell.

 

 


	6. Requiem

Kíli knew that he was dying, though he could feel no pain. He was beyond pain now and with every breath he grew a little weaker as his blood spilled beneath him on the ground. The dwarf felt no fear for he had fought bravely in defense of his uncle and Kíli knew that he would rise again in Mahal's halls. Yet there was regret, regret and worry for the ones he would have to leave behind.  
  
He coughed, a choking gasp, and tried to turn his head to see if his brother still survived. Fíli had fought beside him throughout the battle and it troubled Kíli that he could not see him now, had not seen him since Azog struck their uncle down.  
  
However, Kíli was most worried about his hobbit and he hoped desperately that Bilbo had stayed out of the struggle as he had promised. While his love was brave, the hobbit was not trained for war and the dwarf was afraid of what might have become of him in the chaos of the fight.  
  
 _Not that I fared so well either,_ Kíli thought as he coughed once more and spit the blood out of his mouth. _But I wish I could have seen him again, if only to beg his forgiveness one last time for not standing against Thorin at his side._  
  
Bilbo had not seemed angry over the dwarf's failure when they had met last night, the hobbit sneaking back into Erebor to give him another kiss farewell, but Kíli knew that he should have done better. He should have protected the one he loved from his uncle's insane wrath and proved that he was worthy to hold the halfling's heart.  
  
The dwarf drifted then, lost in his recriminations and hearing nothing but the cries of the wounded and the moaning of the dead. Time passed, minutes or hours Kíli could not say, before he felt a touch upon his arm and someone called his name.  
  
When he forced his eyes open, Bilbo was there leaning over him, abject horror upon the hobbit's face. At the sight, the dwarf managed to raise his arm, stroking his fingers across the other's cheek and leaving a smear of blood in their wake.  
  
“Bilbo, you're all right. I was worried.”  
  
The hobbit clasped his hand and smiled weakly down at Kíli. “Idiot. You should have worried more about yourself. I'll go find a healer.”  
  
Bilbo started to get up but the dwarf tightened his grip, pulling him back down. “Stay please. It's far too late for me and I don't want to die alone.”  
  
“I- I don't want you to die at all.” His hobbit whispered in reply, Kíli's chest squeezing at Bilbo's anguished expression.  
  
“Oh, love. I don't want to leave you either. I had hoped that we would have a long and happy life together but that dream is lost now and I'm so very sorry.”  
  
Kíli's breath rattled and he knew that it would not be much longer. The dwarf saw this same knowledge etched upon his lover's face as the hobbit leaned down and kissed him tenderly. When Bilbo raised his head, his eyes glistened with tears and Kíli's heart ached to see the pain his death would cause.  
  
“Please don't cry, Bilbo.” He begged, clutching the other tightly, “Please, you'll break my heart. You're the best thing in my life and I can't bear to see you so unhappy. You deserved something much better than this. Someone much better than me.”  
  
“It's not your fault.” The hobbit told him gently, brushing hair away from the dwarf's face. “And I don't regret loving you at all.”  
  
Yet the last thing that Kíli saw before the world went dark was the tears streaming down his lover's face.  
  
  
 _Finis_


End file.
